Friday, April 16
More Tales Of Woe And Of Joy. Or Something Like That.
Yes, I'm still catching up, but I'm working my way through it all, slowly but surely. At least I'm not falling any further behind!
Wednesday, 7th April
I didn't quite finish writing about this day in my last post, so I'll just add a couple of little things before moving on to the rest of the week.
I mentioned that I was in a very bad mood for the majority of the day, and had told Girl as much in a text message in mid-afternoon. I also mentioned that my mood had improved by the evening, due to my Mum apologising and me being able to discuss civily (sp?) exactly what it is I do here on this blog. Thus, when I took my dog for a walk in the evening, I was sufficiently cheery to ring Girl and chat to her for nearly an hour.
It was really satisfying (if that's the right word) to be able to talk to someone else about the argument I'd had with my Mum earlier, rather than just forgetting about it or at least trying to forget about it. I know that I've eventually got round to writing about it here, but that's a little bit delayed in providing a release or a response. It was also the first time I'd properly spoken to Girl in a few days, other than exchanging texts.
We made proper arrangements for her to come over to mine that Friday (neither of us were anywhere near inebriated during this phone call...), and I was full of cheer as I got home.
Thankfully, nothing else happened to get me down that evening, so I was still in a good mood when I went to bed and when I got up the next morning, which was...
Thursday, 8th April
Two good things this day:
The first was going out for lunch with the vast majority of the big group of friends I described in a previous post, the ones I'd pretty much lost touch with. It was so good to see them again, and it was surprising just how easy it was to slip into the old routine and the old roles. I guess people don't change all that much, especially if the friendships between them were as strong as ours were.
I suppose it's now up to me to make a determined effort to stay in contact with them as much as humanly possible. He says... I know for a fact that somehow I'll get distracted or forgetful and not remember to contact them when I really should do. I probably won't even see them that much over the summer because I'm planning to stay in London for the majority of that time. Damn my lack of forward planning and my inherent inability to maintain age-old friendships.
The second good thing was (somewhat inevitably) involving a rather large and lengthy drinking session with my "other" group of friends back in Melksham. Does anyone else think 6.30pm is too early to start a proper drinking session that is going to last until around 2am? I have to say that 6.30 is a little late to be getting started...
Once again I went round to Jy's to crack open the beers, because of his huge TV and empty house. Eventually there were about 10 of us there, and a lot of empty cans lying around. We were all planning to go to Buds, which is the joyously crappy bar / club in the centre of Melksham. Thursdays are the night to be there, because it is rammed, and double vodkas are only £1. Somehow I still manage to spend £20+ every time I go, for reasons that I have yet to fathom.
Back in the day, when we all lived in Melksham and hadn't yet gone to unis across the country, you used to be able to rock up to Buds at 11 and not need to queue. However, we'd heard that this was no longer the case. Apparently, the week before the queue had been huge at 9.30pm. 9 fucking 30?! The place is open until 2 in the morning, and 4 hours is a hell of a long time to spend in one place, drinking ridiculous amounts of vodka.
We of course had to get there at 9.30, since we wanted to miss the lengthy queue and get in there pretty sharpish. Unfortunately, the rest of Melksham had the exact same idea, and by the time we got there, the queue must have been made up of over 150 people. Fuck.
I had to pop to the cashpoint, as did Garby, so we left the others at the back of the (very long) queue and went over the road to the local HSBC. On the way back, we had to walk the length of the queue towards the back, but we spotted a few other guys we knew, a hell of a lot closer to the front than the mates we'd joined the queue with.
It would have been wrong to not push in, believe me.
Me and Garby got into Buds pretty sharpish, whereas the others had to wait outside for at least another half-hour. I like pushing into queues, especially when it's cold outside and cheap vodka inside.
But I'm not an alcoholic, right?
I spent the vast majority of the evening / night chatting to loads of people I hadn't seen in a while, sandwiched between trips to the bar and the seemingly omnipresent shots bar. Why oh why are small random shots so addictive? They need to stop serving "Marines" (Apple Sourz and Advocaat) to me, because I drink far too many of them.
For some unknown reason, I ended up chatting to a friend of mine from school, who I'd known for years and years. She lived in the street next to me, and we walked back towards our area of the town at the end of the night, together with one of her friends. I hadn't spoken to this girl (Hannah) for a good few months, when we had texted a few times, catching up on what was happening with each other's lives.
Hence, it was slightly weird to be sitting in her kitchen at 3am, drinking a cup of tea and chatting about anything and everything with her, her friend, and her sister. I already knew her sister (hell, I even know her mum and dad really well too), so I was able to chat away quite freely. It was cool to chat with them for nearly an hour, catching up on each other's lives as I said. No doubt I drunkenly disgraced myself with some slurred speech and random sentences, but I reckon I passed myself off as somewhat sober.
But then again, I always think I have got away with acting sober when I no doubt was an absolute drunken fool.
We eventually called it a night sometime around 3.30, and I stumbled back the few hundred yards to my house. We'd sort of promised to keep in touch, but have I texted or rang her in the week since that night? Erm, oops.
Ahhh, Thursday nights at Buds, how I have missed thee. Oh, and my friends, I've missed thee too. Obviously. Ahem.
Friday, 9th April
There was nothing "Good" about this Friday, believe me. Well, the Friday morning / afternoon, at any rate. It got much better in the evening.
My head wasn't feeling too bad at all, which was a pleasant surprise. It was my churning, heaving and gurgling stomach that was the problem. I blamed that cup of tea. After a shitload of vodka and Red Bulls, my stomach just wasn't ready to cope with dairy products of any kind. I can't say no to any drink in that state though, alcoholic or not...
I had to pack all my clothes and shit, because I had a train back to London to catch at 2.30 in the afternoon. christ, that was fun, rushing to pack everything, with a slight headache, a dodgy tummy and feeling so very dehydrated.
Nothing could be worse than this, I thought.
I was wrong. I fucking hate fucking train journeys which are fucking packed, fucking hot, and very fucking stuffy. I thought I was going to pass out, I swear.
Thankfully, Dracula kept me going. Not in that he bit me or anything, but the book. It's quite interesting reading that novel, with its diary-style of writing, when you yourself keep a diary of sorts. The style of writing and of explanation is similar to the way in which I write here, although obviously my writing isn't (yet) a multi-million selling world-famous novel which inspired countless other novels, films, plays and TV shows.
To cap it all of, the fucking Tube system was being a git as well. It was also very hot and stuffy, and I wasn't aided by the two big bags that I was carrying. Did I mention that I was very fucking hot, and that it was very fucking stuffy? Well, it fucking well was.
I got to Baker Street station, and went to change lines to get home. Of course, just at that point, the line I was about to change to had a fault on it, and no trains were going anywhere. Joy, deep deep fucking joy. Thankfully, there are two lines from Baker Street to my local Tube station, but going back up 3 escalators and along seemingly endless corridors was not helpful to my already feverish brow. Welcome back to London...
I'll carry on writing up Friday night's events some other time, I'm hot and bothered right now (the sun is streaming in through my window straight onto my face, and I think it's time to go sit up on the roof terrace and soak up some rays).
